Drawn Into Place
by joecarioca
Summary: A sequel to "A World Full of Color"; synopsis inside for those who didn't read the first story. A sudden interest is taken in Mr. Peabody's time travel just as his and Sherman's lives are seeing some of their biggest changes since they became parent and child so many years ago. Is this as well-calculated as Peabody thinks, and can he keep himself and his family together and sane?
1. Suit and Tie

**Hey, I figured out formatting! Hooray! And thank you for joining me for this sequ-Wait wait, don't go! You don't have to read the first story to start here. Below is a synopsis from the previous story to get you up-to-date, in case you want to start here for whatever reason (I won't judge). Your kind feedback has made this possible, and I thank you so much for it. Please feel free to leave any further comments, I really do appreciate them. Happy reading, please!**

**The story so far:** After letting Sherman practice driving the WABAC as an early birthday present, he and Mr. Peabody crash land in the already near-condemned studio of artist, near-shut in, and cat Kimberly Rigby. Rigby joins them as their temporary roommate, with Peabody and her driving each other insane with various arguments, but eventually she manages to win over Sherman, who starts to question if he might also want a mother. Peabody and she also come to an understanding, finding a mutual love of art and similar backgrounds as having grown up "anomalies". This leads to several adventures through Paris, the O.K. Corral, ancient Kyoto, and ultimately the H.M.S. Beagle, featuring passenger Charles Darwin, during a hurricane. Unsure if how he'll faire riding the ship through the storm, and sure that the fame and money-shy Rigby genuinely cares not for his fortune but more for Sherman, Peabody asks Rigby to marry him so that she can take care of Sherman in the event of something happening to him. They get married by the ship's captain and all survive with minimal scratches, Sherman with a new mother who's getting used to her role, and Peabody with a wife that he's still getting to know a little bit better every day.

* * *

"If we're going to die here… Could you at least tell me… Who's Marie?" demanded Rigby.

"What?!" Peabody just nearly made it in time to dodge the blade from the Viking and zigzagged out of the way of another one's club. What had turned into a simple enough outdoor feast had quickly gone awry as two Vikings began to argue over a cut from a recent plundering, and the three had found themselves smack in the middle of it. Sherman had managed to get led to safety by his father and relatively new mother, but the two continued to hold back their own Viking adversaries.

"Marie! Marie Sklodowska!" Rigby held up a shield, finding it just barely kept the axe from cracking it in two and jamming straight into her skull.

"You went through my letters?!"

"Just be glad I didn't ask about the others!"

"…It's a young Marie Curie. Must we really go over this now?!" he grunted and used his own shield to strike the side of a Viking's helmet, which knocked the large man out cold. Peabody then hopped over this same man on the way into the WABAC, which Sherman helped both him and then finally Rigby in. Rigby managed to kept one last shot in, decking a female Viking with her shield before the door to the WABAC shut completely.

"Curie?!"

"Before she was married!" Peabody repeated, glaring at the Viking who now attempted to smash the window of WABAC with his club. "…Mostly…"

"Ugh…" Rigby rolled her eyes and looked back to Sherman. "Still have all of your fingers and toes?"

Sherman looked down for a moment, muttered to himself, and then shot his head up and nodded, "Yup! I had to think about the toes."

"Good. It's a successful trip then… Next time I suggest we get lunch, we're going to listen to me and just go to the Olive Bowl, all right?" Rigby slumped down in her seat and grumbled, rubbing the shoulder that had held the heavy shield moments before.

"So… You dated Marie Curie, Mr. Peabody?" Sherman tilted his head and sneered a bit at the thought of his father just doing this.

"We just went out for sodas a few times… Tell me you've heard of carbon dating, Sherman?" the dog chuckled as the WABAC moved through a blue wormhole, ages away from the screaming, spitting, and shouting Vikings.

"Don't forget we've got that meeting at twelve," Rigby nudged the dog, who pushed up his glasses and nodded.

"More sappy wedding stuff?"

Rigby turned in her seat and grinned, "You'll like this! It's for the cake!"

"But… I thought you couldn't taste sweet stuff…"

"Which is why I'm gonna need a taste tester. Got any ideas?" the cat winked, and Peabody himself smiled a bit upon hearing Sherman's excited gasp.

"I won't fail you," said the boy with all seriousness.

* * *

"So… You want a regular cake… And then… Crab cakes…" the caterer's face contorted as she and Peabody spoke business in the white café chair, scores catalogs laid out before him. Sherman and Rigby, meanwhile, stood in front of the numerous glass display cases, Sherman taking another small bite of cake as they walked.

"So how's the chocolate?" Rigby asked, and Sherman wildly nodded his head, turning back to his father and giving a thumb's up to the chocolate ganache with the buttercream frosting.

The caterer rubbed one of her arms and bit her lower lip, "I… Don't want to be rude, but…."

"Ohoho… I understand. The whole "dogs and chocolate" business. I assure you I'm fine with it. I spent an entire summer in Barbados making myself immune to food allergies and most major poisons! It was a bit of a strange vacation. I tried some viper venom and awoke on the top of a palm tree wearing a wizard's outfit and talking to a coconut that someone had drawn a face on. I do wonder what happened to Wilson…"

"Yeah, catnip does that to me, too. I mean this one time… I…" Rigby snorted offhandedly, and then added to Peabody nervously. "N-Not that that happens anymore…"

"Chocolate it is, then!" Peabody clapped his hands together and hopped off the chair. "And for the crab cake, remember no scallions. Absolutely none."

"Come on, bridezilla," Rigby led the dog out while the caterer only shook her head, bemused by the whole ordeal—And wondering how to find as much crab as she would need.

"Now, Sherman, we'll have to fit you for your suit—" Peabody started as he hopped onto his scooter, but was cut off by the boy's groan.

"Hey, I have to dress up too," Rigby reached over and tussled his hair. "It's just for a day. Plus you'll look like a secret agent in one!"

"You really think so? Hey, do I get a communicator watch?!" Sherman asked.

"You have a smart phone, why would you need—Nevermind. You're going to be entrusted with something even bigger, Sherman!" Peabody exclaimed, taking off and merging onto the road.

* * *

"…A ring?" surprise mixed with a bit of disappointment as Sherman looked in at the small box. Peabody had quickly spirited his son into the boy's bedroom, much to Rigby's confusion.

"Well, as the best man you're in charge of that!" Peabody explained proudly, his hands behind his back and his chest puffed out a bit as he looked down at the pink jewel in the center. "Pink sapphire. Incredibly rare. I found it myself on one of my adventures… In my younger years, of course."

"Best man? But… I'm just a boy…"

"You're still the best man I know, Sherman," the dog replied, took a seat on Sherman's bed, and motioned for the boy to do the same. "Now you're sure you're perfectly all right with this?"

Sherman took a seat next to his father, the opened box still in his hands, "Well, you're both married anyhow…"

"It's nothing on paper yet, though. And that was under duress."

"Well, yeah. You seem really happy around her and all. Even when you guys argue you still end up getting along in the end…."

"I'm glad. Thank you."

"And you're okay with it, Mr. Peabody?"

"Sherman, of course! Now… Take good care of that. You're older now, so I'm trusting you with this."

"You can count on me, Mr. Peabody!" Sherman exclaimed, setting it on his nightstand.

* * *

"I'm terrified," realized the dog as he stared at himself in the mirror, arms stretched out at either side as the tailor circled him with a measuring tape, noting where to make adjustments on the suit jacket.

"What was that?" asked the tailor, raising his head.

"I'd like this done by five," Peabody cleared his throat and adjusted the red tie.

"For you?! Of course!" the tailor laughed, leaving Peabody alone on top of the stool he'd taken a step onto. By himself, Peabody loosened the collar of the shirt and brushed back some of the fur atop his head while looking in the mirror at himself.

He didn't know how much longer he'd be able to conceal the panic.

* * *

Rigby scratched behind her ear as she walked down in a paint-splattered red sweater to grab a newspaper from the corner stand, counting her change along the way. She rolled her eyes at the presence of a familiar being following after her—A man with a camera.

"Kim! Hey! Kim! Over here!" she heard him call out to her as she made her walk down to the corner.

"Hey, Jerry," Rigby calmly picked up a newspaper, not minding the group of magazines with her image on them to the right of her.

"Heya, Rig," the gruff New Yorker said through a bite of a bagel. The tattooed, stout man shouted at the paparazzi, "HEY! Get outta here before my nephew's down here to break another one of youse guys' kneecaps!"

"Ricky? How is he?" asked Rigby as she counted her change.

"Good. Just got another scouting badge, an' his class is goin' to the zoo next week for a field trip!" exclaimed Jerry. "Hey, you want onna these magazines?"

"…Why not?" she sighed, picking up the magazine with a picture of her and Peabody on a corner of the front. It'd been a simple day at the park—But magazine fodder.

"How're you holdin' up with that?"

"It's unique…" she admitted, taking it under her arm and glaring once more at the man with the camera.

"I was serious about the kneecaps!" barked Jerry to the cameraman, who scuttled away.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. Why?" Peabody lifted up his welder's mask and looked about, suddenly spooked out of his work.

"…That sheet's a puddle…" Rigby replied, looking up from her painting and wiping her face, leaving a smear of yellow and red across her black and white fur.

Peabody looked down and jumped back—Sure enough, there was a melted puddle of metal on the floor where had once been part of a body for a new personal aircraft carrier.

"You're nervous!" she laughed in disbelief as she tossed aside her brush and walked over to him.

"What? Me? Nervous?" he chuckled and leaned back as she leaned in. "I… I assure you're I'm perfectly fine."

"…Me too…" Rigby replied after a thoughtful pause. She placed a paw on either side of his face and grinned and reassuringly as she could, forgetting the smears of paint left on his white fur. "After two weeks all of this stress will be over. And then we can get back to yelling at each other for doing things like scratching the furniture and chewing the newspaper."

"I was eating fish and chips and it was an accident, for the last—" she pressed her muzzle to his, as she often did to end these arguments. As she pulled away from him, there was paint smearing the front of his muzzle, as well.

"Mr. Peabody, we've got company!" came Sherman's voice from the upstairs intercom.

"My three o' clock! I forgot!" Peabody threw aside his welder's mask, apron, and gloves, ignoring Rigby's pleas to him as he rushed up to the elevator.

Peabody rushed into his living room, having adjusted his tie in the elevator, and walked out with his usual air of calmness—Not understanding the raised eyebrows the group of people, dressed formally in suits, gave him.

"Ladies and gentle—Yes, Sherman? What is it?" Peabody cleared his throat as he watched his son motioning wildly behind the businesspeople. He watched as the boy kept pointing to his own face, and Peabody furrowed his brow, brought a paw up to one of his cheeks, and then looked down at the paint that was left.

"Oh! You'll… Have to excuse me… I was repainting Sherman's wagon…" Peabody chuckled, wiping this paint on one of his sides and only spreading it further.

"With your face?" asked a stout man with thick glasses.

"I really wanted to get close details," Peabody replied with a slight, hopeful wag of the tail. "Now you said this was an important meeting?"

"Yes," a woman stepped forward and handed him a white envelope. "Mr. Peabody, you've been served."

"We'll see ourselves out," said a tall bald man, and the three seemed to walk out as a collective, leaving a stunned Peabody to open the letter and read it over himself.


	2. Hungry Like the Wolf

Hey again! Yeah, I... May have already had a few ideas for the sequel, and I like to think I work rather quickly, hence some quick updates! (and shorter hours at my work allowing for more time to work on this and my other writing projects). Thank you everyone for the kind words, I really hope you enjoy this just as much!

* * *

"They're saying I have a monopoly on time travel?!" the dog, a towel wrapped about his waist and his fur still damp from the anger-powered shower he'd taken, paced back and forth in his bedroom, Rigby sitting cross-legged on the bed, occasionally licking her paw and using it to clean behind her ear as she listened to the rank.

"You're gonna have to break it down for me a little. The only monopoly I know is a board game… And even then I was a little lost when I played and Sherman and I had to switch to Candyland."

"It means that I've been attempting to attain exclusive control," Peabody tossed aside the letter to the ground and picked up his glasses from the vanity in a corner of his room. "Which I haven't, but no one else as managed it and I can't help success. They tried to do this with a computer company a decade ago."

"What happened?"

"I won the case for them and bought my first yacht."

"So what's the worry?" she asked, yawning and stretching as the dog dried himself off with a second towel he'd carried in the paw that didn't have the now-crumpled letter.

"The timing. They knew I'd be distracted with you and thing thought they could throw me off guard. What they don't know is I'm always on guard. As Sherman's father I've had to be."

"That's why you almost melted a hole through the floor this afternoon… If you don't want to have a "manopoly" or whatever why not share the blueprints?"

"Now that'd be like revealing my award-winning cranberry cobbler recipe. It's a family secret."

"This is why people protest the one-percent so much," Rigby sang to herself off-handedly. "We can just postpone the wedding if it's that big a deal. I'm okay with it. I mean… All things considered…"

"No. No. Too much planning's gone into it already," the dog held a paw out in protest and then rubbed his eyes. "We'll carry on with it and I'll just get this dismissed."

"Mr. Peabody? Rigby?" the cat slid off of the bed and walked over to the door, greeting Sherman. "…Is… Everything okay?"

"It will be," Peabody answered, clipping on his bowtie and adjusting it.

"I just heard a lot of yelling…"

"It's just people being ridiculous. Nothing I haven't walked away from winning before, Sherman."

"Hey, I've got an idea!" Rigby clapped her paws together and smiled. "Evening at the park?"

"I believe I know just the park!" added Mr. Peabody.

* * *

"Not a lot of running room here, Mr. Peabody…" Sherman admitted as he gazed up and up, until his neck started to ache, at the white walls and greenery spilling out from over them in the midst of an otherwise desert area.

"Sherman, these are the Hanging Gardens of Babylon! One of the seven wonders of the ancient world!" exclaimed Mr. Peabody.

"I'm just wondering if we can find a spot to have a picnic..."

"Haha, I think you'll find ample space," Peabody chuckled, carting along a picnic basket under one of his arms as Sherman started to climb the numerous stairs. "You know it's reported that it was built Nebuchadnezzar for one of his wives, who missed her homeland."

"You don't have to bring anything from Akron. Really," Rigby cringed.

"Oh, but I just became the co-owner of a Little League team there… The Akron Acorns. Their record's not the best, but I have hope… Hrm? Rigby, are you all right?"

"Just the weather," she answered, patting her forehead and then mustering a smile. "I'm not used to warm, and we're, where… Ethiopia?"

"Iraq. Are you sure—"

"I'm fine! I'm fine," she replied, stopping on a landing filled with lush green grasses and palm trees. "Set up the food here?"

"Certainly," he spread out the blanket, looking up to see Sherman climbing one of the palm trees and giggling. "S-Sherman! Be careful! And come down! Lunch is almost ready!"

Sherman answered this by letting go of his grip and landing right in the middle of the picnic blanket—And the cranberry cobbler Rigby had laid out.

Peabody stood there a moment, quietly seething, before removing his glasses and flicking the pie filling off of them. Rigby did the same with her glasses, wiping a bit off with one of her fingers and sampling the tart filling.

"Sorry, Mr. Peabody…" Sherman cringed.

"It's all right… Better than egg on my face…" he replied, pulling a sandwich out of the basket while Sherman cleaned himself off.

"Hey, where is this king, anyhow?" Rigby searched through the basket, finally finding a plain peanut butter sandwich and taking a bite.

"Mad. He went insane for a course of seven years… No one really knows why, although some attribute it to clinical lycanthropy. It's a condition where humans believe themselves to be animals."

"So kind of the opposite of us!" Rigby perked up.

"What? No. It's completely different."

"How?" Sherman at this time had wiped most of the pie off of himself, and had gone unnoticed as he picked up a fork and started to eat the remnants of it straight from the tin.

"It… It just is… Anyway, he shouldn't be any—" Peabody's frustration was shattered by a low, long howl.

"That… That wasn't you, was it, Mr. Peabody?" Sherman stopped in mid-gorge of his pie, setting his fork down.

Peabody shook his head, "Now Sherman, when do I ever sound like that?"

Rigby looked upward thoughtfully, and grinned knowingly, "Well, there's—"

Another long howl. Both adults rose up, Rigby taking hold of one of Sherman's hands, and Peabody standing in front of both of them as they all stared up at the looming, bearded man wearing a crown on the platform above them.

"That's king nutcracker?" asked Rigby shakily.

"Neba—Oh, it's close enough! RUN!" Peabody grabbed both of them by their wrists and took off in a dash down the white marble, the two rushing along with him and Sherman giving a shout as the growling king rushed after them on all fours.

"Sherman!" both the cat and dog yelled at the boy tripped on the stairs, falling down. This gave Nebuchadnezzar enough time to catch up to them, and the king loomed over all of them.

It was then he tilted his head curiously the sight of Peabody, encircling the dog while Rigby took this opportunity to pull Sherman away quietly and watch this play out, her claws drawn in preparation to fight.

"What…. What on earth?" Peabody muttered to himself as the king continued to circle him, sniffing him now. "What—Mind your manners!"

He shoved the king away with a paw, only to have the king hop in place, begin to pant, and act as though he was wagging his tail.

"…I… Think he wants to play, Mr. Peabody…." said Sherman with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, I deduced that, Sherman… He must think that we're pack mates of some kind…"

"Well… Play with him," Rigby cringed as the king looked to her and gave a low growl. Peabody, in turned, snapped his fingers and pointed to the king.

"No. That is my wife. She's to be respected," Peabody declared, and the king almost looked remorseful. After a moment's hesitation, Peabody reached down to pat that king atop the head. The king responded by happily tackling the dog.

"King Nebuchadnezzar! Here boy! Here!" came a shout in the distance. As Peabody struggled under Nebuchadnezzar, two guards rushed up, one holding what looked like a bag in his hand. "There you are! We told you not to run away! Bad your majesty!"

"Is… He always like this…?" Rigby asked as the king's attention was taken off of the floored Peabody, and placed on the bag. The guard holding the bag pulled out what looked to be a small treat from it, and the king accepted this happily.

"He's off and on…" explained another guard. "Sorry, he usually strays away from visitors… I guess he wanted to be friends with your friend."

Peabody lay with his back on the ground, making no effort to move, "He licked. My face."

"Are you okay, Mr. Peabody?"

"Physically, yes, Sherman. Mentally I may have some scars. Prepare a hot kettle and some Brillo pads for me when we return, please."

* * *

"So can I see it?" Penny swung her legs back and forth against the desk chair in Sherman's room, and the boy looked up from his model airplane and groaned.

"Ugh. Whyyyy?"

"I just do! Come on, let me see it!" Penny hopped out of the chair and began to open cabinets herself, shutting one quickly as a pile of toys started to move towards her like a mudslide of plastic.

"Fine. Here… I don't see what the big deal is, though," Sherman walked over to his nightstand and picked up the black box, tossing it to the blonde girl, who opened it and immediately gave a whistle.

"I'll give your dad this… He's got some great taste…" Penny took the ring out and held it up to the sunlight. "I'm gonna try it on."

"W-Wait, Penny! I think that's bad luck or something!" Sherman took a leap forward, but it was too late.

"See? No world crashing down," she chuckled, showing off the glinting silver and pink ring. "I wouldn't do something if I thought it'd—I… Uh-oh."

"What's uh-oh?"

"I… I don't think I can get it off…"

"Don't joke around like that."

"I'm not! I mean, I wouldn't!" she exclaimed, attempting to pull off the wedged-on ring. Sherman attempted to join in this pulling, but abandoned helping after Penny yelped, and the two heard his bedroom door open.

"Are two having a good time studying? Did you two need any snacks?" Peabody stuck his head in the opened door with his free hand, a briefcase in the other.

"Yes! No!" exclaimed the pair, Sherman shoving Penny's hand behind her back.

Peabody was silent for a moment, and narrowed his eyes… But this gave way to a smile and shrug, "All right! I'll be back this evening!"

"Where're you going, Mr. Peabody?" asked Sherman.

"To win a lawsuit, Sherman," explained the dog, waving the two off.

* * *

The skyscraper was immense, even by New York and Peabody's standards. He looked down at the address on the paper, back up at the large, mirrored doors and that matched the rest of the building, and pressed on the intercom's button.

"Yes?" came a smooth, bouncy male voice clearly from the other side.

"Peabody here."

"Who?"

"You're suing me."

"I'm suing several people."

"I do believe I'm the only dog you're suing," said Peabody.

"I'm suing two dogs. Are you the one with bowtie or the necktie?"

"Bowtie."

There was a silence from the other end of the intercom, and then the sound of the large doors clicking open.

"Come in…" huffed the voice.

The walls were surprisingly bright, Peabody noted as he walked down the silent hallway. White mainly decorated it, interspersed with stained glass that was colored several shades of blue. At the very end was a circular tube decked out in blue and teal glass that Peabody found housed an elevator. Finding no other alternative, he stepped into the elevator, slightly annoyed and… disturbed by the cheery elevator music.

"You must be Mr. Peabody!" he heard in a cheerful greet as the door of the elevator opened out to an office.


	3. Cold as Ice

"And you must be Mr. Kensey," Peabody reached up to shake hands with the man in the brown suit.

"Please, call me Ken! Ken Kensey!" Ken instead left the paw hanging, extended and slapped Peabody on the back happily and laughed. Kensey was a tall, lanky man, with brown eyes, a long nose, and slicked back, black hair that was as neat as his mustache who had to reach down to do just this to Peabody. The dog, feeling the force of the pat, adjusted his displaced glasses and politely as possible tried to chuckle this off.

"….Right. Ken."

"Come on, take a seat!" Kensey waved the dog over to the black desk as the end of the large gray carpeted floor. Peabody took a seat in a teal leather chair across from Kensey's desk, his briefcase on his lap. "I understand you're getting married! Congratulations! How's that boy of yours doing? Jerry? It's Jerry, right?"

"Sherman."

"Right!"

"Thank you for your well wishes. I understand you're seeking legal proceedings against me?"

"Yeah… Sorry about the timing," Ken flinched a bit and leaned back in his chair. "We'd honestly already started this before you and… Sarah?"

"Kim."

"Haha, that's right! Before you two had even been spotted together."

"So if you're this remorseful then we can postpone this matter until afterwards."

"Unfortunately not… Wish I could, but you know once these things are put in motion…." Ken rocked back in his chair a bit and then sprung up from it. "Scotch?"

"On the rocks, please."

"Ohh, good man. Don't trust anyone who does otherwise," Ken picked up a clear decanter and began to pour glasses for himself and the dog. Peabody took this glass with a plain look on his face, allowing himself to never lose sight of Ken. "Now careful, that could be poison. Haha, I'm kidding. The only poison has to be my ex-wife's cooking. Now I'm sure we could probably come to some sort of an… Agreement between gentlemen. You want to get on with your wedding and whatnot, I want to put some of my projects into place, soooo…"

"I'm not handing you my blueprints like they're candy, Mr. Kensey."

"Ouch. But. To the point. I like that. It would just be easier, but I totally understand. What do you say to a partnership, then?"

"I find I work best on my own, Mr. Kensey. Thank you for your graciousness, however."

"Understood. But you know no man's an island. And those who are, well... Bad thing about islands is they can be invaded from all around."

"Mr. Kensey, those designs are for the use of myself and my family—Privately. We're not in the business of lending it out to others. I think you'd find that if I were to go into the business of making it available for general use I could have an argument that it would ruin my business to give out such secrets."

"…You're a thinker, Peabody. I'll give you that."

"I'm also late to taking my son to his practice of a school play," Peabody set his emptied scotch glass on the desk and stood from his seat. "This meeting's been enlightening. Thank you for your time, Mr. Kensey."

"Hey! Peabody!" the dog noted Kensey's strained, cheerful voice, and, against his better judgment, turned about. "Don't think I won't destroy you."

The cheeriness couldn't help but unnerve the dog a bit. He climbed back into the elevator, the doors shutting on Kensey's grin.

* * *

Rigby sat on the edge of the bed, reading over everything on the paper again. She inhaled deeply, running her paws through the slightly longer fur on her head, and breathed in sharply.

"I'm home! Sherman, are you ready?!" hearing Peabody's voice, Rigby looked down at the paper, hesitated a moment, and then crumpled it up and swallowed it, choking as she did so.

To Peabody, who had started to walk in, this sounded reminiscent of a hairball, and his cringed, breathing a sigh of relief as Rigby swallowed this with a few pounds on her chest and then clutched onto her aching sternum.

"Penny's dad took them… We're on... Pickup," she coughed, forcing down a bit of the leftover paper.

"Sadly, I'm grateful…."

"How'd the meeting go?"

"I think he's got a peculiar sense of humor," answered the dog, taking a seat next to Rigby on the bed. "You're right. We might just have to postpone everything."

"NO! I mean… I just got done sending invitations…"

"…But we didn't talk about where all of the presidents were going to sit…"

"For… For my friends," she answered, grabbing hold of one of his arms and patting his paw. "And a lot of them are coming from all over the world… We shouldn't let this get to us!"

"That's a fair point."

"I know," she chuckled, and nudged him. "Even I have those every now and again—Even against you."

"I l… like how we decided on this partnership," Peabody cleared his throat and adjusted his bow tie. "I'll start on the preparations for dinner now and that way I can get to cooking quicker when Sherman gets home. I was thinking snapper and—"

"No fish!" Rigby said quickly, her green eyes wide. "I… Just feel like chicken more tonight."

"….Right…. Rigby? Thank you for being there these past few months."

"W-What's family for?" she chuckled lightly. He leaned in, pecked the top of her head, and rose.

"I'll be in the kitchen if I'm needed."

And it was when he left that she buried her face in her paws, "What am I going to do?"

* * *

"How're you going to get that off?" Penny peeled off the white winter gloves she'd been forced to wear during class as she walked into Sherman's room, huffed, and spun around in his rolling desk chair after plopping down in it. Practice for the play the evening before had been easy enough to excuse these away-She was playing an aristocrat, after all. School the following day, however...

"I tried butter, lotion, and even a pair of pliers," Penny muttered, looking down at the gem in it. "I feel like we've tried everything!"

"Let's try hot water!"

"That makes things expand."

"Wait! What about ice cubes then?!" Sherman gasped, snapping his fingers.

"And get frostbite? Ugh, no thanks."

"Come on, Penny! Mr. Peabody's gonna be asking me about it soon and I'm going to be dead!" Sherman moaned. "They're not home! We can do it really quick!"

Penny looked down at the ring, back to the pleading Sherman, and back to the large pink store, "…If I lose a finger over this and can't take violin lessons anymore, I swear—"

"You'll be fine! I promise!" Sherman exclaimed, hurrying out to the kitchen with her and immediately hopping onto a bar stool to fetch a metal mixing bowl. He filled this with ice cubes, followed by water, and rested on the counter in front of Penny. With a sharp inhalation of breath, she slowly submerged the hand into the ice water, cringing as she did so.

"Okay, I think it's loose now!"

"Just give it a few more seconds!"

"Sherman, it's freezing!"

"It's supposed to!" Sherman exclaimed. "Okay, let's try now!"

"Hey, I think it's working!" she exclaimed as he started to twist the ring off of her finger over the sink basin.

"Sherman!" the sound of his father's voice panicked the boy enough where the ring he'd been slipping off of Penny's hand flew off, catapulted into the sink, and bounced around until it disappeared down the hole leading to the drain.

Both the children watched this in slow-motioned horror, spinning around after watching Mr. Peabody walk in with a box of paperwork.

"….What are you two doing?"

"Making a volcano out of baking soda!" Penny exclaimed quickly.

"...I don't see any supplies for it…"

"We just finished cleaning up!" Sherman added, waving his arms about wildly.

"Cleaned….? Well, I suppose I can't complain about you wanting to start to take responsibility for your messes, Sherman…." Peabody stepped in-between the two and, much to Sherman's dismay, switched on the faucet and began to wash his hands.

"Now when's the last time…?" Peabody reached out to a switch and turned on the trash compactor—Frowning at the metallic clanging and pounding he heard come from within the depths of the pipework.

And he didn't understand why, at that moment, Sherman fainted to the ground.

* * *

"I'm so dead. I'm so dead…" Sherman rocked back and forth as he rubbed his forehead. Penny, meanwhile, typed away on his laptop.

Penny gave no heed to his panic attack, nor to his moaning,"Between my allowance and yours I think we might be able to replace it…"

"Y-Yeah! I've got those stocks Mr. Peabody got me for my birthday!" Sherman gasped, and rushed over to Penny's side. "I don't remember what it was, though…"

"Pink gold with a nine-carat pink sapphire—Pillow cut," Penny murmured as she continued to type, and shrugged off the slack-jawed young boy. "…What? I can have hobbies."

"Okay, so how much?"

"Um…."

"Um… What?"

"How… How much are those stocks?" Penny asked with a gulp.

"Today? I think about $2,000."

"…Well, $138,000 more and you'll have enough for a replacement…." Penny spun around in the chair and wrung her hands together. "I… Maybe we should make a run for the border…."

"…We are. So dead…." was Sherman's hushed answer.


	4. Red, Red Wine

Sorry for the wait on this! I care for rescue animals, and I've been bottle feeding two kittens my dad rescued from being jammed in-between two fences.

* * *

The dressmaker gave an accusatory glance to Rigby as she struggled to button the top of the wedding dress. The cat grinned nervously and shrugged.

Rigby's mouth twitched, "…Too many wedding cake samples, I guess."

"I'm going to have to take it out a bit in the waist."

"You know… I think maybe you could take it out a few inches?"

"What? It'll be huge on you!"

"Y-Yeah… How silly of me…" Rigby adjusted the veil atop her head and attempted to recognize the person in the mirror looking back at her.

"I'll make the alteration, but you need to lay off the snacks," the dressmaker warned, leaving Rigby alone with the large, puffy wedding dress.

"What am I gonna do…?" Rigby asked herself.

* * *

She decided upon a small, quiet restaurant for dinner. Sherman had gone to a friend's house for a sleepover, allowing for the cat and the dog to wander into the upscale place that would have otherwise bored the boy alone.

"This is sudden, but certainly appreciated," Peabody admitted as he slid into his chair, after pushing in Rigby's for her. "How did you manage to get reservations so quickly?"

"…I donated a painting…" was the only response, followed by feigned interest in the menu. "How's your case going?"

"Oh, it's terrific! We're just about done—Victory's a sure thing, at this point. Urm… Rigby, are you quite all right?"

"Yeah! Yeah, why?"

"One, you haven't touched the breadbasket yet, and you adore free bread. Two, you've been staring at a blank page in the menu this entire time."

"I… There are just so many unique combinations on the menu, is all… I guess I'm just having a hard time deciding what I want," she replied, clearing her throat a bit. "Some times that happens, huh? Just… Really, really weird things you see not mixing do. And it's a good mix! I mean... Peanut chicken. Who would've thought, right?"

"Are you sure you're—"

"Sir?" the waiter leaned down to them. "May I interest you in something to drink?"

"Yes. A martini for me, for the lady—"

"Just tea," said Rigby quickly. "Just… Tea. Thanks."

"Now I know something's wrong. You never turn down a good martini, and these are some of the best in town."

"Just… Not really feeling like it."

"All right, then! No martinis, but a bottle of wine, please. Your best year!" Peabody said with a grin to the waiter. He turned to Rigby, who squirmed in her chair, "It's the least I can do for these reservations you made."

"Of course, sir," the waiter nodded to them both and headed off in search of the bottle, Rigby with her paw, claws and all, digging into the expensive tablecloth.

"Now! I picked out a few ideas for the honeymoon," the dog just as quickly shifted gears, while Rigby hung her head and shook it gently, muttering under her breath. "I was thinking perhaps Bora Bora? There's also Australia… The possibilities are endless, really. It'd be good if we narrowed it down, and…"

"We… We're not gonna be able to go."

"Oh? Work? A project of some sort?"

"No, I…" Rigby's eyes followed the bottle of wine as the waiter brought it back, and then upon Peabody's expectant look as he started to pour—First a glass for himself, and then he started on Rigby's glass.

"Well, I'm more than understanding to a venture. We can always re—"

"Hector. Stop. I'm pregnant."

And the wine remained flowing freely in the dog's paw, over and out of the glass, flowering out onto the white tablecloth, and finally onto the floor.

"I… I'll grab some napkins," the waiter's shoulders sunk, and he slunk away into the safety of the kitchen to avoid the pair's table.

Peabody finally set the bottle down on the tablecloth, slowly and shakily, "You… You're…"

Rigby shrugged and threw up her paws, "I didn't know it could happen, either. The vet's impressed. She ran ten tests. She wants to put this into a medical journal!"

"I… I knew you were gaining weight, but I also know that whenever I've mentioned this in passing it's usually followed with some sort of threat… How… How far are you…?"

"Fifteen days…."

"That'd leave about forty-five…" Peabody cringed and readied his overflowing wine glass for his next question, "How many….?"

"Just one."

A sigh of relief slipped from the dog, and he sank in his seat, covering his eyes. He then bolted up from his seat, disturbing the silverware and glasses and spilling even more of the wine, "Sherman! What are we going to tell him?"

"R-Relax! We'll think of something!" Rigby held her paws out, and then, with a sigh, slid out of her seat, walked over and took the dog's muzzle into her paws. "We'll figured out something. We're Peabodys, remember?"

Peabody seemed less than convinced by this, but gently gripped her wrists, and gave a gentle nod.

"I'm not gonna fit in that wedding dress," she laughed, bringing her forehead to his.

"No you're not…" of all things, Peabody gave out his own laugh, and wiped his eyes under his glasses. She drew him in closer, not caring the casual looks of the diners seated around them. For once, she didn't pay attention to the looks.

* * *

"What am I going to tell him?" Sherman moaned, focused on the screen and the expensive gem in front of him. He was quick to close this screen as his father walked in—Wreaking of wine, and with his tie slightly tilted and wrinkled.

"I was just getting to bed! I swear!" he exclaimed, rushing to his bed and hopping underneath the covers.

"That's fine…" his father's voice was low as he pulled the sheets over Sherman gently.

"Are…. You okay, Mr. Peabody?"

"Yes…" said the dog after a pause, "Are you okay, Sherman?"

"…Yeah…" said the boy after a pause.

"I'll be out most of the day tomorrow to deal with that nonsense that's come up. And then we're going to go out for a bit and have a talk."

"W-What about?" the boy's voice cracked, and Sherman could feel himself begin to sweat already.

"Nothing bad. I promise. Now get your rest," Peabody hugged him and switched the lights off of the bedroom before taking in the moment to take in his sleeping son before putting the door ajar.

* * *

"What're you looking at?" Rigby had taken to her condition with fervor, helping herself to some fried chicken that had been left in the refrigerator. She nibbled on the bone of a nearly-barren leg as Peabody flipped through the book on his lap and remained seating next to her in the large bed, a slight smile coming across his face.

"Growing sentimental, I suppose," he answered, flipping through another page of Sherman's baby photos and smiling. "Here's Mount Rushmore—In the midst of its being built, of course… Oh, here's when he climbed into President Lincoln's hat! And… Here's him tugging on Lincoln's beard. Terrible twos. And here—Hrm?"

He heard the low purring, and realized Rigby had fallen asleep, leaning asking him and chicken bone in hand. With a bit of a struggle he pulled the bone out of her hand, pulled off her glasses, and set the glasses atop the baby book, all while holding the chicken bone in his mouth. This bone he threw, expertly throwing it in a trash can.

He went to set his tie on the nightstand, only to find Rigby had clutched onto his arm, making him a bit of a prisoner to her sleeping position. A few more false starts, and he resigned himself to setting it atop Rigby's head and then shutting his own eyes.

* * *

"Neh?" Rigby reached up, patting herself atop the head, and with great confusion pulled a red bowtie out of the fur atop her head. She slowly raised up her head as she watched Peabody hastily rush about the room, grabbing armfuls of paper with abandon and shoving them into a suitcase.

"I've already overslept a bit and have to get to the courthouse early this morning—Do not let Sherman supersede two bowls of cereal, and do NOT let him add sugar to it. It's sweet enough, he doesn't need to be bouncing off the walls," Peabody explained as he shoved the documents into his briefcase and slammed it shut. "I'm off, wish me luck!"

"Wait!" Rigby bolted up after him, and met him at the door. In a huff she held out the bow tie to him, and he took this with a gasp, clipping it to his neck.

"Mr. Peabody!" Sherman called out, rushing out still in his pajamas and with a piece of paper in hand. He practically tackled his father on the way out the door, and Peabody's briefcase went flying everywhere. "Oh, no!"

"I-It's all right, Sherman, really!" Peabody rushed to pick up the papers and just barely shoved them into his suitcase. "I'll be back with a victory by this afternoon!"

"Do you think he'll get it?" Sherman asked in a whisper as Peabody rushed away from both of them.

"Ah, come on, of course he will!" Rigby nudged him and smiled. She raised an eyebrow as she heard a gasp from Sherman, and she tilted her head. "What's up?"

"I think he might've taken the thing I made for him on accident!"

"It'll be a good surprise for him with all of this mess… Now c'mon, let's get you breakfast."

"Cereal?!"

"You got it!"

"Can I put sugar on it?"

"Of course! Just remember, don't tell your dad and help me rearrange my paints later, okay?"

"Deal!" the boy exclaimed, already gripping onto a large spoon in anticipation.

* * *

Kensey's smile gave Peabody a chill—It was the calmness of it… Coupled with the fact it didn't crack at all through the proceedings.

"Mr. Peabody, you'll be defending yourself?" the judge inquired from high up on his bench, and Peabody snapped his head to attention and opened his briefcase.

"Certainly, your honor! I—" Peabody looked down in the briefcase, and found a still-drying painting, a picture Sherman had made of the three of them, sticking to all of his documents and coating them with paint. Peabody shot his head up, and gulped, "Your honor… I might need a moment."

Kensey's smile, from the other table in the courtroom, only grew.


	5. Colorado Rocky Mountain High

I feel like I write a very boozy version of Mr. Peabody. There's an awful lot of drinking going on in these chapters. Ironic since I'm a lightweight and I usually abstain. Well, I think it's whole blasted "irony vs. coincidence" conversation in the first story still has even me puzzled. Anyway, please feel free to leave any comments or feedback, and please enjoy.

* * *

"He's back!" Rigby shouted to Sherman, who bolted from the couch in the living room and ran over to press his face against the glass. Sure enough, they could both see the dog walking towards the front doors, briefcase in hand. "Okay, act natural! Act natural!"

She and Sherman rushed back to the couch, and sat next to one another, perfectly still, both with crossed legs and folded hands. This perfect posture threw Peabody off as he walked out of the elevator, and he stood there a moment, his head tilted.

Rigby cleared her throat, "…We were just..."

"Relaxing!" Sherman added, and the cat nodded wildly in agreement.

Peabody looked over his glasses critically at the two, and wandered in from the elevator, briefcase with paint dripping out of the bottom of it ever-so-slightly, "…You two don't have to look that tense. I won."

"YES!" Sherman hopped up on the couch, his arms extended, and Rigby sighed with relief and fell back against the back of the couch. "Come on, let's go celebrate in the WABAC!"

The boy started to take Rigby by the paw, but Peabody, his eyes focused upon the tighter green sweater she was wearing, cleared his throat and set down the briefcase, "You and I will make the journey, Sherman. Rigby has some work to catch up on."

"That's right!" Rigby nodded. "I was going to talk to your dad about it for just a minute, anyway."

"Grownup stuff?" Sherman whispered to Mr. Peabody.

"I'm afraid so," Peabody whispered in return. "I'll be right back, Sherman. You decide where we should go."

"You got it!" Sherman replied, watching the two wander off into their bedroom. It was when the door shut Sherman casually happened to wander over to the door and by mere coincidence bent down to tie his shoe close enough to hear snippets of their exchange from the other side of the door.

"Are you gonna tell him now that this is out of the way?" Rigby placed a paw on her stomach and winced as she sat on the bed.

"I was actually going to take the opportunity to explain the very thing to him!" Peabody replied from inside the closet he'd wandered into. One side was lined with a random suit here and there, neatly packed in plastic storage bags. On the other side there were sweaters of every color and variation—Many old and a few with random splatters of paint. At the very back were a few new dresses, shoved in together. The area Peabody searched would have ideally served for shoes in anyone else's closet—But for him it only served for more storage. He pulled out a dusty book from here, retrieving it and walking out to Rigby.

"I knew this day would arrive eventually. Well… Maybe not this day exactly, but… There would come a time when this talk would be necessary. I thought this would be the perfect way to explain everything to him," Peabody passed the book to Rigby, who very cautiously took it from him and cracked open to a page.

She just as quickly shut it and covered her face with her paws, "No. You're not doing that."

"Rigby, I'd expect you as an artist to be understanding of—"

"No. This is my parenting trump card. I'm pulling it. I know we each only get one of those a year, but I'm pulling it," Rigby pulled the book off of her as though it was a bug that had wandered on her lap, and shut her eyes. "We'll just tell him it was a stork."

"Absolutely not. We're not going to fill his head with confusing fairy tales. We'll just be straight and to the point," Peabody insisted, his arms behind his back.

"He's a kid, fairy tales are okay every now and again."

"This is my final word on the subject."

"You are not playing your trump card after I play mine."

"I just did."

Rigby gave a growl at this and made a strangling motion with her hands, and then hopped up from the bed and adjusted her sweater. "A steak dinner says you're going to chicken out," she said, poking him in the chest.

"He and I are close enough where he'd understand," Peabody moved her hand away and turned to open the door. It was when he opened the door his confident smile fell, and he saw his son in front of him-The small boy he had held so many years ago. For a moment, Sherman returned to being the small child before his very eyes.

"I like my steak well-done," Rigby whispered.

"This is going to be interesting…" Peabody said to himself, exiting his bedroom alongside Rigby.

"How about we go see ninjas, Mr. Peabody?!" Sherman had slid far enough away from the door after his father opened it up, Rigby wandering close behind him. Even with his excitement… He couldn't help but be a bit confused about the few words he had heard.

"That sounds like a fine idea, Sherman! First… Why don't we have a small talk?" the dog's voice cracked and trailed off a bit at the end, and Rigby forced herself to stifle a laugh.

* * *

"So… Let me get this straight. I'm from a cabbage patch that a stork looked after, but I was also a matzo ball that grew inside someone?" Sherman repeated.

"…Uh… Uh-huh…" both adults nodded stiffly, Rigby squeezing onto Peabody's paw a bit harder than before, to the point where some of her claws came out and he had to hide a wince. What had started out as a scientific discussion had quickly digressed into several piecemeal stories that Rigby remembered from her own childhood.

"But… I thought you found me in an alley, Mr. Peabody."

"Well… There's a big difference between finding, Sherman, and…. Well…"

Rigby scratched the back of her head, "If you wanna get a cheeseburger you have to, you know… Well, you start on a farm with a baby cow… That baby cow has a long journey to a plate, and..."

"We're not doing that talk, too," Peabody hissed in a whisper.

"Don't tell me what to do," Rigby shot back.

"Oh! You mean like zygotes and stuff!" it clicked with the boy, and both the adults remained frozen on the couch in place. "Yeah, we went over all that in science class a little while ago!"

"You did?! You did…" Peabody's voice came out loud and surprised, and Rigby remained there, blinking. "Well, then… I suppose that tuition is paying off, after all!"

"Can I go get ready now?"

"Certainly," Peabody nodded, and the boy slid off the couch and ran towards the elevator.

"Zygotes? Those were those… Stacked temples, right?" asked Rigby, making a gesture of a pyramid shape with her hands.

"Ziggurats," Peabody replied, hopping off of the couch, "With that mild trauma out of the way, You can stay if you wish—In your situation I'd understand it."

"I'm pregnant. Not terminal. I'll be fine," she answered. "But would you mind picking me up some cans of dog food later, when we get back?"

Peabody froze in his tracks, turning back slowly to her to gauge if this had been a joke or not.

"I can't explain it, but I need it. Not even want," she replied. "I've been wanting it for a week now but I knew the jig would've been up."

"I'll order a case when we return," Peabody replied.

But there was no way to go anywhere to return, he found as they joined Sherman downstairs.

"Um. Mr. Peabody?"

"Yes, Sherman?"

"…Where's the WABAC?"

"That's a very good question, Sherman," Peabody answered in a hush, staring at the black hole where the time machine would have previously stood.

* * *

"I don't…" he played back the footage again, this time focusing on a different portion of the footage. Rigby sat next to him, a can of opened dog food in hand, spooning it in her mouth, while Sherman sat on the other side, squinting to see any discrepancies. But there it was—The WABAC, there—And then it vanished.

Peabody rubbed his head and stood up from the laptop he'd placed on the floor between them, and started to pace back and forth. Sherman took over playing the surveillance video back and forth, while Rigby continued to devour the dog food—Her second can.

"Do you really have to eat that that loudly!?" Peabody grumbled, stopping his pace just long enough to snap at the cat. Sherman looked up at this, surprised, and Peabody huffed and took a seat on the couch.

"Have some beef and gravy," Rigby held out the can to him, and he took it, looked down at it a moment of contemplation, then shook his head and passed it back to her. "It's good for your nerves. Clearly."

"...I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"I know," she nudged him and smiled. "I'd be concerned if you weren't annoyed by me once a day."

"I still can't see anything, Mr. Peabody…" Sherman sat up and rubbed his eyes. "And I think I'm going cross-eyed from watching this."

"That doesn't mean I don't have an idea of who it might be…" Peabody murmured, leaning forward and furrowing his brow.

"That Mr. Kensey guy? What's his deal with you anyway, Mr. Peabody?" Sherman took a seat next to his father, and Peabody's eyes narrowed.

"I intend on finding this out, Sherman," said Peabody with a stern frown. He hopped off of the couch and rushed back to the elevator. "Rigby, do you remember how we found Sherman and Penny after they took the WABAC?"

"You think he used the WABAC to time travel?" Rigby set aside her can of food and rose, following him along with Sherman.

"I'll bet our deposit on our venue," Peabody replied.

* * *

"This is so cool!" said Sherman as he stood in front of a large door. "What'd you make a second one for anyhow?"

"I revisited the design and found it absolutely a-door-able, Sherman," answered dog, finding time for a chuckle.

"Please don't like puns," Rigby begged under her breath, briefly touching her stomach. Peabody, meanwhile, had busied himself with typing on the computer console, deep in thought.

"Sooooo... Why're you eating dog food now?" Sherman asked his mother in a whisper, rocking back and forth on his feet.

"Well, I—"

"I've got it!" Peabody exclaimed, rushing to press a red button on the door, "Colorado Springs, 1899. Near the home of one Nikola Tesla. A man after my own heart. Sherman, I don't think we've visited with him since you were a small baby. He made you that nice windup toy, remember?"

"I think I still have it!"

The door opened, and Sherman rushed ahead. Peabody looked worriedly as Rigby followed behind, and Rigby felt a tug as she was taken by her hand. She looked back and read this concern on his face.

"Just… Stay close if you're going to come, all right? Promise me you'll do nothing reckless."

"Me, reckless? When am I ever—" Rigby, Peabody, and Sherman were then all thrown to the ground by a sudden flash or hot white electricity in front of them.


	6. It's Electric

The title's after a Metallica song, NOT the slide song. I just felt I had to make that abundantly clear. Feel free to leave feedback, and thank you for reading!

* * *

Even when the electrical burst subsided, the dog was hesitant to let go of either the boy or the cat. It was only when Sherman wriggled out of his grasp that he allowed himself to let go of either of them, and he shakily stood alongside them, now dressed in a brown suit coat, vest, shirt, and bowler hat. Rigby was in a white lace dress with a high collar, and Sherman in a newsboy cap, blue shirt, tweed trousers, and brown shoes. They fit in perfectly with the dusty Victorian workshop around them.

"Nikola, it would seem as though your experiment had one of those… What's the phrase…? Unexpected reactions," they heard in an amused, Southern-dripped chuckle. "Why you've created not one, but three varieties of life, friend! Not bad at all for someone who's too busy for the likes of women."

A middle-aged man, who had been wearing a pair of goggles, pulled these up and rose up from the chair he'd been sitting in, rushing over to the three.

"It's that guy who sells fried chicken…" said Rigby with a daze as she shakily rose and laid eyes upon the old southerner in the white suit.

"Mr. Peabody!" the younger man exclaimed with a smile, embracing his dizzy friend. "It's been much too long, much too long. This surely cannot be Sherman!"

"Hi, Mr. Telsa!" Sherman waved to the inventor.

"Peabody! You rascal, there you are! You still owe me three dollars from that last gambling trip we took down the Mississippi!" the Southern man laughed.

"Who might this lady be?" he reached out a hand to the cat, who accepted it.

"That's my mom!" Sherman exclaimed before Peabody could properly introduce Rigby. "I've got a mom now! She's an artist!"

"Well your family just gets more curious!" laughed the man.

"A cat. Cats are one of the very reasons I grew to love science," said Tesla gently. "One of my best friends in the world growing up was my cat."

"Really now?" Rigby cleared her throat and straightened the fur atop her head. Peabody, in response, stepped quickly in between the two.

"_Mrs_. Peabody, this is Nikola Tesla and Mark Twain, respectively," said Peabody, emphasis placed upon the "Mrs.".

"Is time mixing itself up again?" Rigby whispered worried.

"No, they're great friends!" Sherman giggled, and Twain nodded in agreement.

"We may be a little unlikely, but America's full of unlikely surprises," said Twain, scanning the small family before him.

"Nikola, I'm afraid I have to ask you if you've noticed anything unusual lately. A man, perhaps goes by the name Kensey," Peabody followed Tesla around inside his lab, while Tesla rushed about, making adjustments to the large machine before them.

"Kensey… I think I may have heard this name… I believe he is somewhere closer to town, if my memory serves me. He moved in about a month ago."

"A_ month_?!" the dog exclaimed, and then slapped his forehead and moaned.

"Fellow did you wrong somehow, Peabody?" asked Twain.

"I'm afraid so, Samuel. Nikola, would you at all mind giving us directions?"

"Or taking us there!" Rigby chimed in.

"We don't really—S-Sherman, wait, don't touch that!" Peabody called out, rushing over to his boy.

"I wasn't," Sherman quickly placed both of his hands behind his back, but it had been obvious to the dog that the boy was inching towards a large humming electrical coil.

"Let's go," Peabody sighed, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses.

* * *

"It's a shame Mr. Tesla couldn't come with us!" Sherman stuck his head out the window of the carriage to get a better look at the city, placing a hand atop his tweed newsboy cap.

"Such a shame…" Peabody murmured, adjusting his own bowler cap.

"…You're not jealous, are you?" Rigby chuckled.

"Me, jealous? Hardly," Peabody snorted, his arms folded.

"You are!" Rigby chuckled with disbelief. "I thought I'd never see the day!"

"I'm more concerned with the WABAC," Peabody answered, waving out the window of the cab to the driver as they approached the house that Tesla had described.

"What is it with these rich guys and big houses?" Rigby stood across the street from the red and white brick structure that was guarded by a wrought-iron fence. After hopping out of the cab, she had hid behind a tree in a nearby park along with Sherman and Peabody.

"I don't hear you complaining about the golf course," Peabody replied, taking off his glasses and squinting.

"Why're we here instead of going up and knocking the door?" Sherman glanced out from behind the tree, and quickly ducked back behind the tree. Peabody answered this by lowering the cap on the boy's head.

"I thought about doing the very thing, Sherman, but Mr. Kensey has made it abundantly clear he wants no visitors. That fence is barbwire, and electrified on top of it. Fortunately I found a weak spot, of course. Besides that, I feel as though the presence of us might only make him run off again. So we're going to go with an alternative idea which, while not exactly legal, is probably our best means of locating the WABAC."

"Why do I feel like you could have been lot more morally gray if you'd had the wrong influence growing up?" Rigby murmured, watching as the dog pulled out a can of brown powder and unscrewed it after tossing off the coat and shirt he'd been wearing. Within moments, the pure white dog had been transformed into an unsuspecting-looking brown and white spotted one.

"All right—Sherman, as I had it told to me, Mr. Kensey will return promptly at three o' clock luncheon at this time. You're going to run up to him in tears and tell him about your missing companion. You'll appeal to his sympathies and begin the hunt for me. I, meanwhile, will scale up the weak spot in the fence and into the home. That will give me time to look about for the WABAC, and when he eventually returns home, he'll find the missing dog in question, and everyone will be pleased!"

"Here, give me that," Rigby took the powder from Peabody, and started to unbutton the high-collar dress she'd been wearing. Peabody reached up to place a paw over Sherman's eyes, and Rigby rolled her eyes and begin to pat the powder on herself, giving the appearance of a calico cat by the end of it.

"Oh no you don't. I know what you're planning and I'm absolutely against it. I won't risk a cat-astrophe!" Peabody snapped, his eyes narrowed.

"I'm over here, Hector," she set down the powder and sighed, watching as Peabody instigated a fight with the tree. "…Is… That vision genetic?"

"Hehe, Hector," Sherman giggled to himself.

"Shermannn…." Peabody snapped.

"I'll go in and look around! There's an open window, I can squeeze in!" Rigby replied, holding her hands to her waist. Even without glasses, he could tell she'd changed. Peabody glanced at the rounder stomach, and she glared.

"It's just how mass works!" he exclaimed after a chilled silence between them. "Only so much can displace!"

"You two get a move on. I'll be fine," Rigby whispered, beginning her run to the house.

"Wait!" Peabody hissed. "Rigby! Rigby! Kim! Kimberly Bat Sheva Peabody-Rigby!"

"Mr. Peabody… That's a fire hydrant you're shouting at…"

The dog took a step back, and reached out to feel the metal, "Oh. So it is. All right, Sherman. Are you ready?"

"Kinda I guess…" Sherman murmured, and Mr. Peabody then took off running as soon as he saw Kensey walking towards his home, coffee and newspaper in hand. Peabody ran out in front of him, nearly tripping over Kensey, and Sherman followed afterward, bumping into Kensey and causing the man to drop and spill the pages of his newspaper everywhere.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Sherman gasped. "Mister! Mister, my dog! He ran away!"

Kensey sighed with disdain, "Didn't you have it on a leash, kid?"

"I… I couldn't afford one!" Sherman explained, glancing briefly behind Kensey to watch Rigby squeeze through the ajar window. "Please, Mister! Help!"

"…All right," Kensey sighed and crouched down, "Which way did he run off to?"

"Down here!" Sherman tugged Kensey by the hand, and the man allowed himself to be pulled by the young boy. "Here boy! Come on!"

"What's his name?"

"Hector."

"Hec—"

"I. I mean it's Spot. Here Spot! Come here!"

Rigby could hear as Kensey join in the shouting, and finished her descent into what appeared to be a living room. And she let out a hiss as she saw she wasn't alone.

The figure in question turned, and she saw it was only Peabody, admiring a painting hung on a wall and inlayed with a thick brass frame.

"W-What are you doing here?!" she reared up on two feet and stomped over to him. "I had this!"

"That's not all you have," Peabody replied, walking over to her. "You remember "not reckless"? Well this is incredibly reckless! This is the definition of reckless!"

"….This painting's new…" Rigby said as she stepped forward, her attention completely away from their argument. "It's acrylic, and no one used that until 1934."

"Exactly… Even with my vision lacking I could make out something unique about this."

"Here, Rigby sighed and lifted up the glasses she'd carried with her and placed them on Peabody's face. "Better?"

"You brought these?"

"I figured you'd follow me."

"…You know, you make a lovely calico…"

"Down, boy," Rigby giggled, nudging him a bit and then wandering around the parlor. "…There's a lot of paintings of the same girl."

"Daughter or niece, I'm willing to bet."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, for one, they possess the very same zygomatic arch, denoting some genetic relation," he replied, pointing to the cheekbones of the brunette girl in the blue dress as he and Rigby stood in front of another painting. "…And it tends to be a parent thing. I carry a photograph of Sherman everywhere. If he's living here, he'd more than likely want pictures up."

"It's… New, but it's not that new…"

"Hrm?"

"Well, there's some chipping, and it looks like it was left in a sunny room—At least this picture. I'm guessing thirty years old?"

"So his daughter's older. Well, he is an older man."

"Why no new pictures, then?" asked Rigby. The knob to the heavy wooden door of the parlor started to turn, and both the cat and dog began to scramble, choosing to pose amongst the taxidermied animals that cluttered the room.

"Such a mess…" murmured the maid who entered the parlor, feather duster in hand. Rigby and Peabody exchanged glances from across the room as the woman wandered the room, idly dusting. She inched closer to Rigby with the duster, while the cat was frozen in an attack pose against a stuffed quail, and Peabody shuddered, knowing what was coming.

He allowed himself to relax as the maid passed over Rigby with her duster, and the cat managed to hold in her sneeze. It was when a single feather fell from the duster and landed on Rigby's nose that the cat found a struggle, and gave way to a sneeze. This went ignored, as it happened the same time as a bark. The maid spun around and gasped as the presence of the barking beagle. While the shrieking maid's attention was taken up by Peabody, Rigby slipped out and down the hallway.

A few whacks with the feather duster didn't seem to deter Peabody—He rushed out after Rigby, deftly dodging the harried maid as he turned into an ajar door, which turned out to be a library.

He barely had enough time to regain his composure when he noticed that he wasn't alone in the room.

In front of him stood Kensey—Who was gripping onto Sherman's arm tightly with his right hand and Rigby's with his left. Sherman struggled in the grip while Rigby stood still, her claws drawn and the a frown across her face.

"Oh, hello, Spot," hissed the tall man, who shoved both Rigby and Sherman towards Peabody. "I found your boy and kitty for you."


	7. Troglodyte

Oddly long chapter, this one! I'm pleased by this. Feel free to comment, I hope you enjoy! :)

* * *

"Kensey," Peabody muttered coldly, rubbing Sherman's arm. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No… I'm fine…" muttered the boy.

"Peabody! I'm offended you'd think I'd do such a thing! I'm not the type to bite someone's head off. Or… What is the arm?" snorted Kensey, who leaned down to meet eye contact with the brown and white dog. The man jerked forward, giving his own fake bark, and Peabody flinched a bit in response.

"Knock it off!" Sherman growled, breaking out of Kensey's hold and standing his ground in the thick carpet underneath his shoes. "And give back the WABAC! It's not yours!"

Kensey stood upright and smiled, at the boy with the clenched jaw and fists, "Brave kid you've got there, Peabody."

"Well he does give me a good example to follow," Peabody answered. "Mr. Kensey, we require the WABAC. We don't want any incidents, just the WABAC. We've traveled very way back for it and you must put an end to whatever it is you're doing at once."

"What, so you're the only one who can do it? Do you know the goldmine you're sitting on here?!" Kensey laughed, extending his arms and sauntering around to behind his desk dark cheery wood desk.

The dog bristled, "I don't care. It was a gift made out of love, not for profit."

"You make things "out of love" lot, don't you?" Kensey smirked, looking to the glaring Rigby and tilting his head. "So when's the little bundle due?"

"…What's he talking about?" Sherman asked, turning to both of his gobsmacked parents.

"Waiting until the right moment to tell the kid, huh?" Kensey took a seat behind his desk, in a large, leather wing back chair, "Take your hunk of junk—It's out in the shed out back. I got what I needed from my experiments."

"...I am going to put you through the wringer," said Peabody as he walked up to Kensey's desk.

"What's he talking about?" Sherman repeated in a whisper to Rigby, and she didn't look at the boy—She only placed a hand on her stomach and avoided eye contact with him. "…What…?"

"We'll be back for you, Mr. Kensey. I think you'll need it when the time comes," Peabody said, standing alone in the doorway, his back turned to the man who sat behind his cold, darkened desk with his cold, darkened expression.

"I think you'll find that's unnecessary," Kensey replied coolly, and he leaned back in his chair and started to flip through the book nearest to him, seemingly having lost all interest in the three.

* * *

"You sure you don't mind the recharge, Nikola?! You already dragged it here for us, I'd hate to be any more a burden!" Peabody shouted over the noise of the whirring generator, and the dark-haired scientist merely gave a nod.

"We might want to stand back just a hair. The last time he looked like that, I lost half of my mustache!" laughed Twain as he pulled back Sherman and Rigby.

"Hey, Rigby… What'd Mr. Kensey mean?" asked Sherman solemnly as he clung onto one of her paws. Rigby looked to the boy, bit her lower lip, and yelped and grabbed onto the boy as blue sparks shot out, falling to the ground with him. Twain gave out a laugh, covering his eyes, and all stood in the quiet of the workshop, the humming of the residual electricity only noise amongst them.

"Well done, Nikola! That should do it!" Peabody lifted up the goggles he'd put on and watched as the steps to the WABAC floated down, allowing for safe entry. "Now just a few more adjustments…"

"Mr. Peabody…?" Sherman attempted to follow around his father as the dog paced about the red globe quickly, checking the WABAC for dents and scratches. "…Mr. Peabody?... Mr. PEABODY!" he finally shouting, stomping one of his feet for good measure.

Sherman had gripped onto his father's shoulders and spun him around, giving a shake to the stunned genius.

"Y-Yes, Sherman?"

"What did Mr. Kensey mean?"

Peabody looked past the boy, to Rigby, who gave a small nod as she clutched onto a handkerchief in her hands.

"…Nikola, what do you say we go get drinks? I'll even let them be your treat!" Twain cleared his throat and placed an arm around the scientist's shoulders.

"But, I have a bit of work to do. I—"

"You'll thank me for this, later," Twain whispered underneath his breath, heading out of the workshop's large doors with Tesla at his side.

"I love science," Rigby couldn't help but think out loud to herself.

"Sherman… Sit," Peabody pointed to a wooden chair towards a corner of the workshop, and the boy did so, swinging his feet back and forth. Rigby walked over and stood next to Peabody, shifting from one back paw to the other.

Peabody cleared his throat, and after a few false starts, and a bit of pacing, the dog was able to find the words, "You're an intelligent young man, so I trust you to take this information with the gravitas of such a person. Do you remember when we… Had a discussion, and you asked about the possibility of my having any other children? I told you I wasn't interested…?"

"One visit to Fiji and four mojitos later…" Rigby noted offhandedly with a roll of the eyes.

"Well…"Peabody gave a stiff sigh, and cleared his throat, "Sherman, you're going to be the older brother of a younger sister or brother soon."

"…WHAT?" the sharpness of this from Sherman caused a murder of crows not that far away in a field to take off in flight. And then there was silence again. He slid off the chair, his fists clenched, and his father took a step back, "You lied to me?!"

"No… I didn't, Sherman, I—"

"You lied to me! You… You lied to me!" the boy exclaimed.

Rigby worked up her courage to join in the conversation, "C-Calm down, it's nothing he—"

"He lied to me! He said he wouldn't! You… You both did!"

"Sherman, don't talk to your mother like—"

"She's been my mom for like six months! And you're already having another family with her?!"

"I'm not doing that at all! I'm extending our family!"

"I didn't want you to do that!" Sherman snapped, taking a step forward and practically bumping chests with his father. "We were fine!"

"Sherman, things happen all the time that we don't plan. I never even planned on…" Peabody rubbed his eyes behind his glasses and took a deep breath.

"…You mean how you never even planned on me, right?" the boy's voice fell to a hush.

"I… Now that's just not fair, Sherman!"

"Hey… Surprises are good," Rigby suggested. "…Sometimes. Sometimes people… Burst through your apartment and they end up being your family… A-And, hey, I always wanted a little brother or sister growing up. This'll be fun!"

"This is going to happen one way or another, so better to face unavoidable change happily," Peabody added, gently placing a hand on Sherman's tense arm. Sherman shrugged this off and stomped into the WABAC, his head hung.

"Did you know it was going to go that horribly?" Rigby asked Peabody quietly as they stood alone in the silent, dusty laboratory.

"In the version I had in my mind, he threw the chair," Peabody replied, helping her climb into the WABAC. Rigby attempted to smile at Sherman, who only kept his eyes down on the floor.

Peabody, too, looked over to his son once before entering the coordinates for home on the lit up dashboard, "…Life's what happens when you're busy making other plans, Sherman. Remember when Mr. Lennon told you that?"

"And I'm feeling more and more like Yoko Ono…" murmured Rigby, curling up into her chair and practically into a ball.

"Sometimes life doesn't go how we meant it to, but it…What on Earth?" Peabody squinted as he leaned in to get a better look at what lay before him. The normally bright blue vortexes had changed—Not only in color but in shape and speed. Some moved sluggishly, while other at breakneck speed. In addition to this some looked more like tubes of static, while others appeared to be dotted with bright, sharpened points. Their colors ranged from dark and nearly black to a sickening pea green, the three noted.

"…What happened?" Sherman broke out of his sulk long enough to uncross his arms and lean inward.

"Someone's been ripping holes left and right through the universe!" Peabody exclaimed, barely believing his own words.

"That's bad, right? That sounds really bad," Rigby knew from the looks of both the dog and his boy that her fears were right.

"I'm going to try to steer us out of here. Sherman, stay back with Rigby, just in case."

The boy slid his seat back so he sat beside Rigby, saying nothing but occasionally looking over to her stomach.

"There's only one," Rigby said, noting where he was looking and tilting her head. Sherman only turned his head away and rubbed one of his arms.

"Oh this is no good at all…" Peabody whispered to himself, just before the three jolted from a sudden bump.

"What was that?" Rigby called out.

"Nothing, nothing! Just… Wondering what we might have for dinner tonight is all! Sherman, any requests?"

"I'm not talking to you right now," Sherman answered. Peabody gave a roll of the eyes and turned his attention back to the numerous fluxing vortexes.

"And we're not even at the teenage years…" Peabody said with a shudder of realization. Any thoughts of a much taller, stronger Sherman back talking him were stalled as the WABAC began to spin around in place. The three went sailing about the WABAC, yelling and bumping into one another. At last Peabody gripped ahold of the console, and Sherman grabbed Rigby and pulled her into the same chair as him. She, in turn, gripped onto him tightly, shielding him from additional bumps.

The three gave a yell as the WABAC was sucked into a wormhole, careening into a dark hole, straight down without stopping. The console on the WABAC flashed different dates, sputtering out and beeping as it sent them to an unknown destination.

Gradually the dark gave way to a dark blue. Peabody pushed himself away from the console and towards the two, reaching over and grabbing onto them to brace them both for impact.

There was the sound of crunching and snapping trees, and flashes of dark green passed by the front window of the WABAC.

"Hold on!" Peabody shouted before the crashing into the dirt below. The WABAC had formed a decent-sized crater from the outside—Inside, the WABAC's console continued to spill out random dates from its console, while the rest of its images glitched and flickered.

Peabody shakily reached out for his glasses, rose, and very calmly walked over to the console, arms behind his back. Scanning over it, he turned and nodded to Rigby. She, in turn, reached out and placed her paws over Sherman's ears. The boy then watched, mute to anything that was said, as Peabody kicked at the chair that had floated back over to him, stood in front of WABAC's console, and, from what Sherman could see, shouted out several phrases. All but one of these words was foreign to Sherman, and the word he recognized from reading his father's lips was one Skylar, a boy in his homeroom, had been sent to detention for saying.

Peabody was breathing a bit heavier when Rigby removed her paws, and seemed to have fully recovered after this outburst, straightening his tie and adjusting his mussed up fur atop his head.

"Now!" he smiled and clasped his hands like an excited child on Christmas morning, "Shall we see where we've landed?"

"Are you… Sure you're okay to?" Rigby asked as she and Sherman walked over to the door Peabody had forced open with a few forceful tugs.

"I am. You, however, certainly are not. You need your rest, it's been a long day for you."

"I'm going to puke…"

"Sentimental, I know, but also the truth. I care about you too much too-"

"No, really, let me out of the way, I'm going to puke," she shoved him out of the way and disappeared into a thick bunch of bushes. The sounds that followed were enough to make father and son cringe.

"…Morning sickness…" Peabody explained flatly, hopping out of the WABAC, followed by Sherman. Looking down at the outfit the WABAC had chosen, Peabody saw that both he and his son had been dressed in fur, "…How very redundant."

"What're we dressed as, Mr. Peabody?"

"A more financially successful movie, Sherman."

"Huh?"

"Cavemen, it would appear," Peabody explained, adjusting one of the sleeves of his outfit. Rigby stumbled out in her own fur outfit, and looked down at this in horror.

"I used to throw paint out people who wore this sort of thing… I'm such a traitor…" she moaned, her arms slumping as they trudged forward. Peabody gathered a branch, some dry leaves, and two rocks along the way, and managed to form a torch out of these materials.

"I can make the repairs in the morning… Until then we'll have to find shelter. I don't trust the WABAC and in its current state to act as a suitable place for us to stay—Ah! There we are!"

"Just like real camping, huh?" Rigby wandered into the dark but dry cave entrance with the two and taking a seat near one of the walls.

"Just have to… Clean up a bit," Peabody murmured, tossing aside a stray scorpion and then starting on a fire with some twigs amd stones lying about.

"Are you speaking to me again yet, Sherman?" he asked as he passed the boy. Silence was the only answer he got as he picked up a twig near the boy, and arranged this one in the pile as well. "I have to get some more firewood. I'll be back shortly. Hold down the fort."

"…What're you doing?" Sherman turned around to the wall behind him and Rigby after his father left, and saw that she had risen and was standing in front of it, humming to herself quietly.

"The only thing I know I'm good at," she replied, taking another handful of dark clay and making another figure on the wall. "Thought I'd make some cave drawings for the heck of it. When in Rome... Er, future Rome! See? That's you there. And that's your dad, and that's me, and that's, well… I guess we'll know who they are in a little while."

Sherman focused on the tiny dot standing next to the drawn version of himself and drooped his head, "…My drawing's a lot taller than you guys are…"

"Well, yeah, that makes sense. You are the only one who can reach the good plates without a stool."

"I just look so… Weird there…" he admitted, folding his arms. Peabody, arms full of twigs, stopped right at the cave's entrance, leaning in to listen just from outside in a mass of green brush.

"No—I look weird there… I think I drew myself tilted. And… Maybe a little bit thinner than I actually am…" Rigby chuckled, adding some more of the clay to her sides.

"…That's not what I mean… That baby, it'll… They'll look like you guys. No one's going to look like me."

"That means they might get your dad's teeth. You ever notice how the front couple are all uneven?"

Peabody frowned and opened his mouth, feeling this for himself with his thumb. Finding this to be true, he decided Tuesday would be the day he would call the dentist.

"But I just… I won't fit in…"

"None of us fit in. That's what makes us a family. I had a mom and a dad and I was the only non-human. Airports used to try to check me in as luggage!" Rigby wiped away the additional clay on her face, and then reached out to spread it on the same spot on Sherman's cheek. "See, there! Now we look alike!"

The boy chuckled, but this was only weakly. Rigby exhaled and slid back down the cave wall, Sherman joining her.

"It's gonna be weird. Being a mom is still weird for me. But you're used to the weird, and… Him, her, whoever… They're not gonna be. They're gonna need you to be strong to try to navigate through all of that weird because let's face it you're probably the most normal one out of all of us."

"I…. Guess I can do that."

"Hey, I know you can," Rigby nudged him, and he nudged her back in return, continuing with this until she tackled him and he broke out into laughter.

Peabody chuckled at this himself, taking a step towards them—He stopped, midstep, at the sound of crunching leaves and twigs emanating from the forest behind them. The growl he placed immediately, and he froze. The saber tooth tiger, meanwhile, stalked out of the brush behind him, giving another low growl.


	8. Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend

Wow! Thank you all for the gracious feedback! :D I really appreciate it as an author, it totally makes my day! I'm glad everyone's liking this for me. Also, unrelated, but going through the artbook for the movie, unused concepts included the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, the Wild West, and apparently there was even a sequence where Peabody talked to Freud. I can't help but be amused that a couple of the concepts I incorporated were considered during the production of the film. : )

* * *

Rigby and Sherman immediately both bolted to their feet upon hearing the growl, Sherman standing in front of Rigby and watching, with horror, as his father raced past the cave entrance, the massive sabertooth bounding over him.

"M-Mr. Peabody!" Sherman yelped.

"Don't mind me, Sherman!" Peabody raced past them again in front of the cave, as did the sabertooth, who swiped at Peabody and growled again. "Well, that was by the skin of its teeth…"

Sherman squirmed nervously at the sight of his father narrowly dodging the beast's claws by hiding behind a tree, looked back to Rigby, and gasped, "Mr. Peabody! Run to the water!"

"…Sherman, that's brilliant!" Peabody exclaimed, and immediately switched his direction in the clearing near the cave.

"What's so brilliant about this thing trying to eat you!?" Rigby shrieked and jumped up and down. "RUN!"

"Come on!" Sherman grabbed her by the wrist, and the two took off running towards the sound of a rushing river.

"If you get in the water this time… I'm taking all of your video games until you're thirty!" Rigby puffed, clutching her side as she ran with Sherman, falling to all fours and resuming her run.

Peabody occasionally looked over his shoulder to make sure the cat was following behind him still and then ahead again to the river in front of him. He skidded to a halt, digging his paws into the muddy earth near the river. The much larger sabertooth attempted to do the same, but instead careened over him, crashing into the river and immediately starting to splash around towards the nearest rock for safety.

"…We can't just leave her-I could be related to her!" Rigby cried out as the tiger continued to splash helplessly in the deep water, its head bobbing under for a moment.

"….I know…" Peabody huffed and reached over to a thick handful of green vines. Pulling one of these down, he quickly fastened it into a lasso, and then threw it out, grabbing onto the sabertooth by the shoulders. Rigby grabbed onto the lasso behind Peabody, and Sherman behind her, and with several tugs and grunts the creature was brought back into shallow enough water to walk out the rest of the way, while the family tumbled to the ground.

"Now that she's cooled down she'll hopefully be more receptive to us. Unless she needs a catnap, that is," Peabody murmured as the sabertooth shook its damp fur and also its way out of the lasso.

Rigby paused of a moment, and approached the creature, on all fours, making a purring noise as she did. Cautiously, the sabertooth sniffed her, and then started to bristle its fur. It was then that, father and son watched curiously, as the wife and mother laid down on her side, looking up at the sabertooth expectantly while flicking her tail. After a moment of hesitation, the large animal did so, with such a loud "thud!" that the pebbles and dirt around it were stirred up.

"…What's she doing, Mr. Peabody?"

"Sherman, I learned to stop asking myself that when she told me she had started scream therapy," Peabody murmured, watching as Rigby held out a paw to the tiger, only to have it returned as the tiger practically covered her head with its paw. Rigby rolled around a bit more, and the tiger mirrored her, almost knocking over Sherman in the process. Finally the tiger rose up again, the same time Rigby did, and nuzzled its giant head against her with such force that the cat was nearly knocked off of her feet.

"I told her we were friendly, and you were Mr. Rigby," Rigby dusted herself off and grinned widely to the two.

"Mr. Rigby…" Peabody repeated, frowning at the sound of this.

"Why did you do all the weird stuff? Why didn't you just meow to her?" Sherman asked as the tiger wandered off into the brush, and Rigby chuckled.

"I'm not a dog—Cats meow to communicate with other species, not with each other," Rigby, her son, and husband watched as the tiger returned from the deep brush, now with a bird in its jaws. It dropped the ex-bird at the feet of the three, and nudged it towards them.

"T-Thank you… So much…" Peabody unsurely picked it up by the legs, and all three jumped back, startled, as it began to squawk and writhe. "…Rare. My favorite. However did you know?"

"We're not taking that, are we, Mr. Peabody?"

"Sherman, it would be incredibly rude not to. That being said, we're going to let this bird go the moment we're out of our sight…."

And he did just this, sending the bird shrieking into the night after they backed back into the cave they'd been staying in.

"We were all really awesome!" Sherman exclaimed from inside the cave, hopping up and down.

"Yes, yes… Now it's time for you to get some rest, Sherman," Peabody reached forward and removed the boy's glasses. Sherman moaned and slid against the cave, bowing his head down. Peabody knelt down in front of the boy and smirked, "…So I take it we're talking again."

"I'm thinking about it," Sherman replied, although this was with a smile of his own. "I love you, Mr. Peabody."

"And I you, Sherman."

"You too, Rigby," Sherman called out to the cat, who had been stacking up the twigs Peabody had dropped to build a fire. She shot her head up, grinned, and then returned to her work. After getting the twigs positioned just how she wanted, she rose, walked over to Sherman, and kissed him on his forehead.

"Yeah, this lady loves you, too," she said quietly, and Peabody busied himself with starting the fire, although he felt her eyes upon him the entire time.

"….I realize verbally expressing my emotions is one of my very few strong suits," he looked up from the fire and across to Rigby.

"It did take your four weeks to say that you liked me," Rigby snorted. "And even then it was because I'd reorganized your library."

"…I do care for you."

"And I can totally see why," Rigby winked and sauntered over to Sherman, curling up beside the boy. "Goodnight, Hector."

"Goodnight, Kim," Peabody murmured, tending to his fire, and he huffed with frustration over himself.

* * *

"That should do it! It's amazing what a little mammoth fur can do!" Peabody wiped his forehead and looked up from his handiwork on the WABAC, reaching down as Sherman handed him some cooked meat on a stick.

"Rigby made it!" Sherman exclaimed.

Peabody stopped just short of eating it, and stared down the meat as if it were the barrel to a gun.

"It tastes pretty good! I don't' think it'll kill us!" the boy continued, and Peabody then took a bite of the meat. "This is my third one!" he said through a full mouth.

"This actually is quite delici—" Peabody turned around and found, near the cave, a pile of feathers that looked suspiciously similar to the green and blue of the bird he had released the night before. He swallowed the rest of the meat, roughly, and passed its remainder back to Sherman. "You can have the rest of mine, Sherman. I'm nearly finished, anyhow!"

"So the wormholes will be okay now?" the boy now took turns taking bites from both sticks of meat as Peabody set in place the final red panel and stood back from his machine.

"That I don't know… Rigby! Rigby! We should be ready!"

"Great!" she stepped out of the cave as she continued to gnaw on an oversized bone, a taloned foot still attached to the end of it. "What'd you think of my cooking?"

"I'm impressed you could outrun the bird…" Peabody murmured to himself, opening the door to the WABAC and smiling, pleased, as he found it back to its normal condition. Rigby tossed aside the large bone as she entered, and Sherman shoved the rest of the meat from the two skewers in his mouth before rushing in last.

"All right, now let's head home for a bit… And try to sort out Mr. Kensey's mess…" Peabody murmured, inputting a date into the WABAC's console. They rose off the ground and sped off, finding the same darkened wormholes in front of them.

The three were silent, Peabody sullen, while Sherman squirmed in his seat. Finally, the boy cleared his throat while wringing his hands together, "…Hey, Mr. Peabody?"

"Yes, Sherman?"

Sherman shifted in his chair a bit, biting his lower lip as he did so, "Um…"

"Yes?" his father smiled, letting the boy know it was all right to continue.

"Um, since you and Rigby are having a baby… Does that mean you two have been having—"

"Let's stop here, I think I heard the engine rattle," Peabody shot his head forward towards the window of the WABAC and careened, sharply, into a nearby wormhole.

"I didn't hear—"

"Well, a dog's hearing is fine-tuned, Sherman."

"So's a cat's ability to tell when someone is changing a subject," Rigby mused to herself, placing a hand on top of her stomach.

"Well, where're we headed to, Mr. Peabody?"

"Let's see… It would appear to be Hollywood, 1953…" Peabody replied offhandedly. "Looks as though this venue will be a little more glamorous, or at the very least not have a giant cat chasing after us."

The WABAC landed, without any audible rattling, in what the group recognized as a soundstage. From the outside they could hear music blasting through speakers.

Peabody listened to the music for a moment before gasping quietly, and began to type into the WABAC's console once more, "Maybe we should try somewhere else…"

"Why? This looks perfectly fine," Rigby had risen from her chair, and along with Sherman were in the process of exiting the WABAC. "I need to stretch my legs anyhow—And not while I'm on the run from something!"

"Just… Don't rush to judgment, all right?" Peabody practically begged with a whisper as he reluctantly followed the two out into the large movie set.

The sudden presence of the time machine hadn't rattled the blonde woman, dressed in pink and diamonds, from her performance, although a few of the dancers dressed in suits exchanged confused glances with one another through their dancing.

The three watched this, lined up and dressed in period garb. Rigby wore a mint green cinched dress with a flared skirt, Peabody wore a brown tweed coat and matching dark brown hat along with a white shirt and black tie, and Sherman wore sneakers, an orange and yellow striped shirt, and a pair of blue jeans. Much to his delight, the boy reached in his pocket and found a few vintage baseball cards and a pack of gum. Against his father's previous orders that the gum would ruin his teeth, he discreetly popped a piece in his mouth and began to chew.

As soon as the music stopped, the alluring expression of the blonde woman lip-syncing to music immediately changed, and she gave a scream of joy and ran to them in her high heels.

"HECTOR!" she shouted, lifting up the white dog with her pink gloves and kissing him directly on the muzzle after spinning him around.

"N-Norma…" he sputtered in return, still in her tight grasp.

"Hector?" Rigby repeated, and her eyes didn't leave Peabody as he was set back on the ground, red lipstick staining part of his white fur.

"Yes… Sherman, Rigby… This is Norma Jean Baker… Marilyn… Monroe…" Peabody's arm fell as he weakly introduced the woman to the giggling Sherman and the blank Rigby.

"Go, Mr. Peabody…" Sherman chuckled.

"I missed you so much!" Marilyn exclaimed, and held her hands out to the cat and the boy. "Now who are these wonderful people, Hector?"

"I believe you remember me talking about Sherman… And this is my wife, Kim Rigby."

"Wife! What a lucky woman!" Marilyn gasped, her eyes opening wide.

"Don't I know…" Rigby replied.

"I know! You all should come back to my house! I'll have a chef come and make dinner for us, it'll be absolutely wonderful!"

Peabody cleared his throat, "Actually, Norma…"

"That'd be awesome! Can we, Mr. Peabody? Can we?" Sherman asked as he reached out to grip onto his father's paw.

"Can you? Can you?" Marilyn repeated in a giggle, grinning at the small group.

"I'll be in charge of making drinks, if that's the case," Peabody gave a sigh of resignation, and both Marilyn and Norma gave their own cheers at this.

"I can't tell you how wonderful it is that I get to meet you and your family, Hector. Just let me get my things together from my dressing room. You remember which one it is, right?"

"Oh course!" he exclaimed, and just as quickly shuddered as Rigby's head snapped back towards him. "See you in a bit, Norma!"

"I'll be right back!" she wandered off, already taking her earrings off as she headed backstage, giggling to herself and leaving the three together standing in front of the time machine.

"Marilyn Monroe," Peabody shrugged again to his wife and chuckled. The genius felt the walls of the doghouse he was in closing in on him as he waited there.


	9. Mama's Pearl

As always, numerous, MANY thanks for the reviews and hits! :) It took me a while to figure out who they should visit here... I guess it's no surprise in the end it became Marilyn Monroe, with as many pictures of her we having hanging in the house!

* * *

"Married! That's so wonderful!" the breathy voice of the blonde exclaimed again as she led the three into her modest-sized but somehow still-elegant home. "I simply can't get over it! I would have never thought anyone would have tamed you enough for that, Hector!"

"Well, I was… A bit dogged about it… S-Sherman, mind the furniture!"

Sherman rushed right over to a hanging bookshelf in the living room, hopping on top of a dark-colored couch to get a good look at all of the many books stacked on top of one another.

"Oh, it's no problem! I just got a fantastic one!" Marilyn hurried over to the boy, reached over, and pulled down a book of poetry for him. She looked a bit more relaxed, now, having changed into a dark turtleneck and Capri pants, and her blonde hair bounced as she left the excited boy with his find and turned back to the cat and dog. "Hector, why don't you pick out something for us to listen to? You have the best taste in music! Oh, if only I had a piano in here! Do you remember that night in the bar where you played and Jane Russell and I sang?"

"How could I forget!?" he exclaimed, nervously eyeing his wife all the while. It felt like being under the eye of the judges all over again, and his bowtie, while a clip-on, felt oddly tight about his neck.

Marilyn turned to Rigby and could barely contain her laughter, "We spend the entire night talking with one another, the pianist gets tired, has to go home, Hector picks up right where the man left off! And you made so many tips that night!"

"Over thirty dollars, if I recall."

"It really was something special. Mrs. Peabody, did you want to follow me?" Marilyn motioned for her to follow her into a back room, and Rigby, unsurely, wandered to the back, leaving Peabody alone with Sherman.

"How come I never got to go on that trip, Mr. Peabody?" asked Sherman as he flipped through the book Marilyn had picked out for hm.

"Well, in my defense, it was when the WABAC was still in its testing phase, Sherman," Peabody replied from his spot on the couch with his son, and leaned over to take a look at the book's contents. "I ran into Norma, and… She was just so insistent that I visit her again. You'll have adventures of your own as well, one day. And then with your children that you'll have other adventures with, as well!"

"Ew, no thanks…" Sherman stuck out his tongue and cringed. "None of that mushy stuff…"

"Oh really? Even with Penny?"

"H-Hey! She's just a friend!" Sherman exclaimed. "Even if she's… Really cool, and smart… And smells nice, like, all the time. But that still doesn't mean anything!"

"You're right," the dog chuckled knowingly.

"Do you think that about Rigby, Mr. Peabody?"

"Well, Sherman… I think that sometimes it's hard to put to words what you like about a person, especially when you're older… At least that's my take on the matter."

* * *

"Thank you for coming back here," Marilyn took a seat in front of her vanity, switching its bright, round lights on, after she shut the door and motioned for Rigby to take a seat on the bed behind her. She continued as she searched the top of her vanity, settling on a tube of red lipstick, "I have to say I'm so sorry about earlier! I hope you're not angry with me. I assure you it's nothing like that. He's always been too much a gentleman!"

"I'm not worried… Well, I was…. For a little bit… I guess I was just surprised?" Rigby chuckled. "I mean…. You're you! Of course I was gonna be shocked. Maybe just a little jealous…"

"I figured as much. Thank you for being so understanding. Hector's just an old, dear friend. But it certainly explains why he hasn't come by for drinks in a little while!" Marilyn exclaimed, now turning her attention to her thick black mascara. "He probably didn't want to do anything that would possibly look bad or disappoint you."

"So… You guys go back…?"

"Oh, of course! We both love literature, and we both had a lot of the same life experiences!"

"Okay, well…. Maybe I'm a little more jealous now. He tries to talk to me about books and I feel like he starts to think he's talking to a brick wall. I always wonder what he was like when he was younger. I've seen photos and it… Really seems different from the Mama Hen he is."

"Well, I suppose he is. He doesn't really seem like the entertainer, but… The care's always been there. I love Hector—"

Rigby's head shot up, and her slitted pupils narrowed. Marilyn chuckled and brushed her fingers through her blonde hair.

"Not… Like that, though. Like… Like Santa Claus!" she lit up, and turned around to Rigby. "You know how a child loves Santa Claus?"

"I'm Jewish… But I'll try?" Rigby chuckled weakly.

"Well, you know how Santa comes by, and… You know it's going to be a good time? That he isn't going to ask anything from you, just wants to see you happy? Like that!"

"…I totally get that," Rigby thought back to the art school that was her former home warmly, and then gasped, looking at Marilyn turned on the bench towards her. "Do you have paper? I know this is weird, but I'm an artist… I just have to draw you. Just really quick, I promise."

The blonde started to turn back to her vanity, in search over her blush, "Oh, but I have barely any of my makeup on, and my hair's a mess!"

"You look great!" Rigby replied, searching around the room and finally finding a sheet of blank paper near a phone, and an ink pen.

"You really think so…?" Marilyn blinked slowly, and examined herself in the mirror. Slowly she brought a hand up to her cheek, and Rigby excitedly climbed onto the vanity, paper in hand.

"Now… Just like that!" Rigby looked up occasionally, but mainly looked down at the sheet of paper.

"So how did you and he end up meeting?"

"Oh, he wrecked my house…"Rigby muttered off-handedly as she began sketching the wavy blonde hair. "And I moved in with him. How about you?"

"He was dancing on top of a bar while Dean Martin poured cocktails!" she giggled, and Rigby paused for a moment, cocking her head and stifling a giggle that would ruin the outline of the face she was now drawing. For a while, the only sound was that of the pen against the paper. That was, until Rigby finally built up her courage.

"Hey… You said you love him… Has… He ever said that do you?"

"Well… Not directly. But sometimes when you go through a lot, you're not sure when to tell somebody that. I guess… You're afraid if you admit it they suddenly will disappear and it'll happen all over again. He never said it to me, but… Every year on my birthday, it never fails. He always brings me roses. He shows it to me, instead of always saying it."

Rigby thought back to the glasses, the surprises like half of his closet cleared for her things, or a bottle of wine left on her nightstand, the late-night runs to get her cat food, or running out to hand her an umbrella when it started to rain… And she grinned. After ten or so minutes, mostly in silence aside from the pen, Rigby took a seat on the edge of the vanity, and held up the finished product.

"My… I look so plain here…" Marilyn whispered, taking the paper from the crestfallen Rigby. Monroe looked up to the cat, and beamed, "I simply adore it! Please let me keep it? Please? No one's really shown me like this in years! I didn't know I could still look like this!"

"I… It's yours!"

"Then take this! I have a million at this point—Plus Hector said that you're getting married again. Well, if you're from the future, I suppose this will count for something old!" Marilyn reached into her vanity's top right drawer, and pulled out a length of cream-colored pearls.

Rigby recoiled in surprise at this gesture, stifling a gasp, "I-I couldn't just…"

"You look great in them! I look plain, and you look like a movie star, and we both look wonderful!" the actress exclaimed, draping the pearls around the cat's neck. What served as a bracelet for Marilyn made a perfect-fitting choker for Rigby.

"…I can't thank you enough for this…."

"Just love Hector and his boy back. That's all," Marilyn giggled, gave her a quick embrace, and stood. "Come on, let's get out to them. I'm sure they must be so curious as to what we were talking about!"

And when they walked out, they found Sherman's attention had moved to setting a paper boat free in the pool out back, while Peabody busied himself with making drinks. He paused for what felt like an eternity of silence in the midst of chopping up a lemon, waiting for the two women to make the first move and plotting his proper counter-attack. Or escape route.

"I've got a tennis date with Marilyn Monroe next week," Rigby chuckled as she joined him at the bar area. Peabody allowed himself to exhale, finally, and resumed chopping his lemon. "So… Dancing on top of a bar while Dean Martin poured drinks…"

Peabody stopped his chopping once more, and gave a slow, haunted stare towards her while Rigby snorted out a laugh.

"That boat looks wonderful!" Marilyn exclaimed as Sherman walked in holding the soggy boat.

"Yeah, I'm gonna teach my brother or sister, too," Sherman replied, Marilyn seemingly not minding the water dripping on the expensive carpet. Instead, the mascara coated eyes went wide, and she turned to the cat and dog, and let out a scream of excitement loud enough that Peabody, which his superb hearing, cringed. Sherman was the first to be embraced by the blonde, followed by Rigby, and Monroe stopped short and looked to Rigby as she held Peabody in preparations for an embrace.

"May I!?" asked Marilyn.

"Go ahead," Rigby chuckled, and Marilyn pulled in Peabody, kissing him as she had before, and leaving more bright red lipstick on his fur.

"It's a good shade on you," Rigby murmured to her husband as Marilyn began to interrogate the young boy excitedly. While the two were gabbing away, and Peabody busied himself with wiping off the lipstick, Rigby sucked in a breath of deep air and leaned in a bit to him, "Hey… Um… I love you."

Peabody stopped the cleaning of the lipstick with the white linen cloth he'd found atop the bar and stared at her. A noise started to come out from the back of his throat, but this was interrupted by the silence that had befallen the two humans in the room. They were both facing the sliding glass doors that led out to the poor, he noticed, and he hopped off the stool that had been provided to him and wandered over.

Rigby followed not far behind him, and was able to see exactly what he was—The thick, blackened California sky striped with glowing dark green light.

"It's all falling apart…" Peabody whispered to himself.

"Mr. Peabody… Is… Everything okay?" Sherman's voice struggled to remain steady, and the boy found himself inching closer to be next to his father as they watched the slowly-swirling green.

"I'll fix it. Don't worry. I won't let anything bad happen to you or anyone," Peabody stepped away from the group, and hurried to the front door, "Norma, I hate to be a burden, but would you mind at all giving us a lift back to the WABAC?"

"Certainly! I'll grab my coat," she replied, rushing into her back bedroom.

"What… What IS that?" Rigby asked offhandedly as Peabody paced the door anxiously.

"A nitwit who doesn't know how to travel time properly! As much as I loathe to do this, it's the right thing to do, and we don't really have a choice… We're going to have to find out when Mr. Kensey went."

"I'm back!" Marilyn had thrown on a brown felt overcoat and glasses, and rushed out with the others, carrying her clutch and car keys in hand.

After they piled into the car, Rigby sat in the back seat with Sherman, and quietly, as they rode in the bright red convertible towards the studio, placed a paw gently over his hand, and another over her stomach.


End file.
